FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Chapter Sixty Two

*****

In all his short life, Vakaal had never seen so much stone. The place called The Colony was built from more of it than he even knew existed, even in all the vast desert. It stood out as an imposing, gray silhouette on the desert horizon long before they arrived. By the time they actually reached the place, Vakaal was awed. It was surrounded by walls built of gray rock that resembled imposing storm clouds rolling across the sand. Men with strange, metallic garb beneath their protective robes pulled open an immense gateway made of crossed bars.

Beyond the outer wall lay an entire city. Again, Vakaal had never seen such a place, only glimpsed them in dreams spawned by Father's stories. Buildings of stone and structures of wood were all clustered around a series of small oasis ponds. Animals he'd never imagined were penned up in muddy enclosures, some fluffy and pale, others tall, short-furred and muscular. The din of too many voices echoed around the many walls before eventually escaping to the sky. The whole place had a funny, unpleasant smell. The odor was a little sour, like old mud from a drying pond. The scent of the animals and their excrement didn't help.

There were humans everywhere, far more than in any of the rare nomadic trading bands his tribe met once in a while. They all looked busy. Some were tending their beasts, others bartering over goods. Someone were banging on glowing metal, or tending fires. In a few places, they pumped away at alien-looking devices, pulling water up from the ground itself. Vakaal tried to point them out to Father, but Father swatted his hand down, and told him to keep to himself here.

Vakaal was happy enough to do just that. He stuck by Father's side as they were lead through the strange city. Their captors seemed to be in a hurry, and walked in a group surrounding the urd'thin. Vakaal wasn't sure if they wanted to make sure he didn't try and escape, or if they didn't want everyone to see their newest prisoners arriving. The more humans Vakaal saw, the tighter he stuck to his father.

He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering, though. Down a narrow lane, he spotted an unfamiliar urd'thin. Like them, the other urd'thin bore black shackles and a collar on his neck. He wore dirty breeches and no shirt, and a few old scars marked his gray-brown fur. He carried a a load of books, but no sooner had Vakaal caught sight of him, than Father gently grasped the pup's muzzle and turned his head away.

At the center of the place was the largest building of all, a monument of stone walls and towers and walkways. Light glinted off crystalline domes atop it. Vakaal came to a stop in the massive shadow the building cast. Was that some kind of house? That could have fit his entire tribe and their pond into that place, with plenty of room to spare. He tilted his head, staring up at the towers. They were tall and cylindrical, just like the ruins in the desert. He used to climb atop places like that, long since toppled and half-buried in the sand. It was the same sort of place they sheltered in during the storms. Their whole world was littered with fallen towers and ruined fortresses, maybe just like this one.

Suddenly, Vakaal wasn't sure who these people were. He'd thought they were Those Who Came Before, the very people who ruined this world. And perhaps he was right, but if so, what was this place doing here? Had they come back somehow? Had come back to life, or returned from some kind of exile? The stories all said that their abuse of their powers led to their own downfall, but it didn't say exactly what became of all of them. Vakaal himself used to think the humans they occasionally traded from were descended from their ruinous predecessors. He assumed that they'd learned from their mistakes, taken up a humble, nomadic life to live off what the desert provided. Now, he did not feel so certain. Could this place have somehow escaped the gods' wrath? Maybe some of them had never changed, and had been living here ever since.

"Get movin'." One of the humans shoved him.

Vakaal stumbled, and Father caught him, growling at the guard. They relented, but the whole group marched forward once more, and took Vakaal and his father along with them. Once Vakaal had his footing, he looked around again, trying to see past all the bodies. He wasn't sure where the dragons had gone, but he glimpsed a few of them in the distance, drinking together from one of the smaller ponds. They hadn't let him talk with the dragons again after the night he healed them.

Soon they approached the entryway of the biggest building. Several immense doors opened up, and they were ushered inside. As soon as they were past the entryway, voices called for the doors to be closed again. Vakaal whimpered, and Father gasped his hand, squeezing it. Vakaal pressed up against the older urd'thin, and Father put an arm around him.

"It'll be alright, Vakaal."

They were taken through a room big enough to shelter every urd'thin Vakaal had ever known, and sturdy enough to protect them all from even the angriest of storms. Now that they were indoors, their guards thinned out a little, and Vakaal had a better view of the area. There was furniture made from wood all over the place, lots of long tables with many chairs. More humans in robes sat in some of them, in the midst of a heated discussion. They fell silent and turned to stare at the pup and his father.

Vakaal ignored them, gazing around. The ceiling was so high up, he could have stacked at least two handfruit trees atop each other and still not reached it. It was arched, and carved from a kind of stone he wasn't familiar with. Or maybe he just wasn't used to seeing it without centuries of weathering. On either side of the room were towering columns unlike anything Vakaal had ever seen. They were like immense tree trunks wreathed in thorny vines and flowers, but all cut from stone. He wondered if they'd used shaping to make this place. Spicy incense heavily scented the room, and made his nostrils sting.

At the far end of the room of the room, an elegant arch was cut with words in a strange language. By then, Vakaal was no longer surprised to find that he could read it. He squeezed his father's hand and pointed with the other. "Look! A riddle. What do you think the answer is?"

Father glanced up. The words made him growl, but then he gave a bark of laughter and rustled Vakaal's fur, between his ears. "Trust a pup to find something to be fascinated by, even at a time like this."

Vakaal huffed, flicking his ears back. "I was just curious."

"No, that's good. You need to find something to keep your mind off the bad things, a way to keep yourself-"

"Separate them."

Vakaal's ears shot up. "No! Leave us alone!" He wasn't sure who was speaking, but he wasn't about to let them pull them apart now.

"Only for a little while. So I can talk to you separately."

Vakaal growled, trying to find the source of the voice. At the end of the room, beneath the arch, a man in a golden robe with black symbols on the shoulders was speaking to others. He must have been in charge. Before the pup could challenge the man, the humans who'd brought him here grabbed at him, pulling him away from his father.

"No!" Vakaal thrashed and squirmed, calling to his shaping. The collar and manacles vibrated around him, leaving him filled with a dull sort of void, as if they were devouring all the shaping he called. "Let me go! I wanna stay with my father!"

"Vakaal!" Now it was Father's voice that rang out. As always, even when Father sounded stern, he also sounded gentle, and calm. "It's alright! Don't struggle. Don't give them reason to harm you." Father's voice was soothing. Much as he hated to admit it, the pup knew his Father was right. More than that, Vakaal didn't want to give them reason to hurt his father. "Just do what they ask of you."

The pup whimpered, his ears drooping. Tears brimmed in his eyes as they dragged his father away through a side door. His throat clenched, and he struggled to hold back his sob when he saw his father's proud, bushy tail, now sad and limp, vanish through the doorway. How he hoped to any god listening that would not be the last time he saw his father.

As soon as his father was out of sight, men snatched Vakaal's arms. The pup did not resist, but only because his father asked him to do as he was told. The way they whisked him swiftly through stone corridors and up stairwells left his shoulders aching. He was smaller than they were, and they were in such a hurry they were almost dragging him. When he complained, they relented enough to ease the ache. As long as they didn't try to harm him, he wouldn't fight back.

At least, not until his father told him otherwise.

By the time they came to a stop in front of a wooden door carved with vines, Vakaal had completely lost track of how they'd gotten there. This place was a like a maze. One of the men produced a tool from his robe, put it in a little hole in the door, and after a click it swung open. They pushed Vakaal into the room, told him they'd bring food and water soon, and then closed the door behind them. The door clicked again, and Vakaal was alone.

Vakaal turned in place, looking around. He tried to think of anything but his father. Was this where he was supposed to stay, now? A bed took up one wall. At least, Vakaal thought it was a bed. He'd never seen one like that before. It was rectangular and set on a wooden frame. Back home, his bed was just hides and furs stitched together and spread on the floor. This thing was...strange. He put a hand on it, leaned forward. It felt squishy. Soft lumps occupied one end. He picked one up, squished it between his fingers. Felt like it was filled with feathers. What a funny pillow.

He set the pillow down, and hopped up onto the bed. His feet didn't quite touch the floor. He scrunched his muzzle, one ear splayed. Why did humans build their beds so high? What if they fell out at night? He leaned back onto his hands, his tail swishing back and forth over the bedclothes. That was probably going to happen to him, now. With his luck he'd roll out of bed in the middle of the night and break one of his horns off. Wouldn't father laugh at him then.

A whine escaped him before he could stop it. Where had they taken his father? Maybe they wanted to question them separately. His throat tightened. He swallowed a few times, trying to ease the growing lump before it got any bigger.

Vakaal hopped off the bed. He had to stop thinking about his father. But it was difficult. The room felt so empty without him. He'd always lived with Father. They had a little home together, back in the tribe. Wooden frame, hide walls. He helped his father build it when he was but a tiny, fluffy pup. They'd carried its pieces with them when they traveled. Whenever they'd journeyed, all they ever had to do was put their shelter back together, and then wherever they were, it always felt like home.

This place...this was just felt empty.

The pup poked around the room. Opposite the bed was a big wooden box, filled with lots of smaller wooden boxes that pulled out. A few of them had books inside. Another had a set of brushes, probably for his fur. Another had clean clothes in it, a vest, some kind of shirt, and breeches. They all looked cut to fit urd'thin legs, if too big for him. It made him wonder how long they'd been planning to go and capture his people, if they already had rooms prepared to keep them in. Vakaal scowled. It might be comfortable, but it was a prison just the same.

A small door at the side of the room led to an even smaller room. A raised seat, of sorts, had a hole in it. Some kind of latrine, maybe. And a deep basin on the floor with a smaller hole was...for what, exactly? Vakaal wasn't sure if he was supposed to fill it with water to bathe in, or pee in it.Humans built odd things. He closed that door and got back onto his bed. A small window above it let sunlight and fresh air in. He stood on the bed, and looked out the window. He could see out above the city's walls, into the desert beyond. Golden sand stretched to the horizon. Vakaal wondered how long his people had been bringing this world back to life, to have turned so much wasteland into beautiful sand.

If they were prisoners now, who would bring the world back to life?

And what about his tribe? If their village was burned, where would they go? Who would shape for them now? Who would ensure they had enough rain? Could the rest of his people even do that? Father was the prime shaper for a reason, he had the strongest shaping. Maybe...maybe the others could band together, to cooperate with their shaping enough to keep the tribe going. At least until Vakaal and his father could escape, and get back to them.

Or maybe they'd all die out there.

A cold knife drove itself deep into Vakaal's heart. The sudden, icy pain stole his breath. He flopped down onto the bed, his muzzle pressed to the strange pillows. They were going to die, weren't they? They needed their shapers. For every time he tried to tell himself the oasis could sustain them, he wondered what would happen when the next storm came, and poisoned all that water. They tribe needed a prime shaper, he was sure of it. They'd always had one.

Father meant for him to be the prime shaper, next. He knew now his shaping could be almost as strong as his father's someday. But now the tribe had no one. And it was his fault. All he had to do was listen to his father. All he had to do was go home, hide them, and keep them safe. He'd have lost his father, but...but the tribe would still have their shaper.

Everything that happened now was his fault. Unable to hold back the sudden sobs that wracked him, Vakaal curled up in the empty room, and cried himself to sleep.

*****

Revaramek knifed through the thick, gray clouds ever-churning above the swamp. Flashes and glimpses of green scales through the fog led him onward. Every powerful wingbeat swirled the ashen mists around him. Vortexes spun ahead of him in Nyramyn's wake. When he couldn't see her scales, he followed the turbulence that stirred the clouds behind her wings.

As he chased her, he fought the urge to breathe. The longer he pursued her, the harder his heart pounded in his chest, and the more desperate he was to extinguish the fire in his chest. But the clouds were as rotten and poisoned as the waters below them. If he gulped down a lungful now, they'd sting him on the inside and leave him choking on their fumes. Already, exposure to the clouds left his wing membranes and frills tingling with a thousand tiny claw pricks. He certainly didn't want that stuff inside him again. Nyramyn still laughed at him for the last time he tried breathing inside the clouds.

Just when Revaramek was afraid his lungs would implode, Nyramyn pumped her wings and burst through the top layer of clouds. Finally, he'd outlasted her! He beat his own wings against the air, exploding through the clouds just behind her. As soon as he was clear, the dragon sucked in a long, ragged gasp, his head swimming. Revaramek panted, his plated chest heaving as he soared towards the pale blue sky.

"Listen to you wheezing back there!" Nyramyn's beautiful, musical laughter cascaded through the air. Revaramek could almost feel it brushing and tickling his scales. "A little ascent through the clouds, and you're already out of breath."

"I'm not..." Revaramek panted again. "Wheezing!"

"Whatever you say, Wheezy."

Revaramek grit his teeth, spines pinned back as he angled up towards the sky, chasing her tail. How could she sound so calm and even-voiced after holding her breath so long? "You're not breathing that filth, are you?"

Nyramyn only laughed once more, shaking her head. "You just need to learn to use your lungs better! I'm used to holding my breath. I can hold it a very long time!"

"So can I!"

"It doesn't count if you have to gasp a death rattle!"

"I'm not gasping a-"

"If you have to land to catch your breath, that's alright." Nyramyn dipped a wing, spinning away through the sky. "I won't laugh at you. Much."

"I don't have to catch my breath!" Revaramek banked after her, folding his wings to match her dive back towards the clouds.

Nyramyn swept over the cloud tops. In the pale sunlight, her green scales glittered like polished emeralds above a sea of dull, silver waves. When she glanced back at him, her copper-bronze eyes caught the sun, and shone with fiery mischief. "Well you're certainly not catching me!"

Oh.Right. The challenge.

With a snarl, Revaramek streaked down towards her. He stretched his forelegs, straightened his neck, diving for her tail tip. All he had to do was brush her scales, grasp her tail. He just had to prove he could catch her in flight, that he could keep up with her no matter how swift and acrobatic she was. Just as he reached her, she flicked her wings and shot back up towards the sky, leaving him grasping only at tendrils of clouds he plummeted through.

Revaramek clenched his paws, and pumped his own wings to soar after her. The dragon stroked his copper-splotched wings against the air, ascending faster than she could. He could climb faster, he'd proven that, and he might even have a higher top speed. And back in the marsh, he could outfly any dragon he'd ever met. Only the gryphons, with their superior maneuverability in the air, could hope to outfly him. But Nyramyn proved as worthy a competitor as he'd ever known. She might have even been a superior one, loathe as he was to admit it.

The female dragon ascended higher and higher, even as he closed in. Above her was the infinite expanse of the sky, a far lighter blue than the world of the marsh. Beyond it hung the strangely pale sun, bright enough to warm their wings, but with a strange, ghostly glow to its golden hue. It was as if the changes made to this world were slowly draining the life of even the sky and the sun beyond. Not that it mattered to Revaramek anymore. This place was his home, now. A home his friend had showed him how to survive in, and more importantly, how to enjoy that life.

Once again, Revaramek closed in on Nyramyn's tail, and once again she was completely out of reach in an instant. This time she flicked a wing, flipped herself over, and went into a tumbling descent, dropping through the air. She flashed her belly, her back, then her belly again, laughing all the while. If Reveramek didn't know her better, he'd have been afraid she'd just sent herself into some kind of unrecoverable fall. Hell, he did know better and yet the sight of another dragon toppling towards the earth sent a spike of cold dread into his belly.

Pulling in his wings, Revaramek went after her. While she rolled through the air like a feather in a windstorm, Revaramek dove. He kept his wings tight and his paws tucked in, hurtling through the sky. If he could catch up to her before realized how close he was, maybe he could get hold of her tail and claim himself the victor in their little sport. As he drew nearer to the laughing, tumbling dragon, he stretched his forelegs out, reaching for her tail.

It was out of reach in an instant. With a few maddeningly precise wing movements, Nyramyn not only regained control of her flight, but flipped herself over, flashing him her belly and everything else along her underside. In another instant she righted herself once more. He leveled out and she pumped her wings once, gliding along just above him.

He glanced up at her, hissing. "Now you're just teasing me!"

"Who, me?" She put a paw to her chest plates. "I'm just out for a flight, enjoying the lovely, warm sunshine on my wings and my belly scales. What..." She cocked her head. "You can't fly upside down?"

"Turning over in the sky for a moment doesn't count as flying upside down!" Revaramek snorted, and pumped his wings to rise up beneath her. She ascended with him, staying just out of reach. "And that isn't the teasing I was talking about!"

"I can't control where your eyes go, or where your mind wanders!" She waved her paw at him, laughing. "You're a male. You've all got that problem."

"You keep teasing me like that, and I will have a problem!" Revaramek laughed with her, then gave her a playful snarl. "Besides, distraction is cheating!"

"Oh?" Nyramyn glanced down at him, smiling. "Why is that? Can't work your wings properly if all the blood's gone elsewhere? Not like it matters, you could chase me a thousand times and never catch me once!"

"Then I'll try a thousand and one times!"

"I don't think catching me once out of a thousand tries would make you a better flier than me."

"Equally magnificent, then!"

"No, that would require you to catch me at least half the time." Nyramyn flew ahead of him, descending till her tail tip brushed his muzzle. "You've not caught me once, yet."

Revaramek snapped his jaws at her tail, only for her to yank it out of reach at the last second. He beat his wings, driving himself forward, lashing for her with paws and teeth alike. Each time Nyramyn pulled her tail away. She curled and twisted it, her haunches swaying as she danced above the clouds. Revaramek had never seen a more graceful flier. Not even the gryphons back in the marsh could have matched her grace and beauty in flight. On the ground, she sometimes looked silly, the way she liked to awkwardly prance about. But in the air she was utterly in command. When she flew, it was her story to tell.

That gave Revaramek an idea. He had not tried to call upon his spark again, not since the day he'd saved himself from drowning. He wasn't even sure if it was still there. For all he knew, he might well have used the damn thing up. But if it was, perhaps he could call it now, change the world around him just enough to make sure he finally caught Nyramyn's tail. Revaramek considered it for only a moment. As her laughter washed over him, he pushed the thought aside. No, he wouldn't do that.

Nyramyn was simply a flier, and that was the way things were meant to be.

Revaramek knew he could never catch her, just as he knew he'd never stop trying.

"Watch this!" Nyramyn's voice rose into a brassy roar, a joyful call exulting the simple, sheer bliss of flight.

Ahead of him, Nyramyn pushed up into a steep ascent, steeper even than he'd have been comfortable attempting. She rose and rose and rose at a frightening pace until her angle became so steep that she was almost upside down. She hung there for a heartbeat, her muzzle scrunched in determination, and he found himself staring up at her back. Then she was descending again, shooting down behind him just as quickly. As she leveled off again, she swooped in behind him to grasp his webbed tail spines in her paws.

"I caught you!" Nyramyn laughed as she gently held his tail webbing, matching his pace to fly just behind him.

"How the...did you..." Revaramek gaped at her over his wings. "Was that a damn loop?"

"Bet you can't do that!"

"You're damn right I can't!" An incredulous laugh bubbled up from deep inside the dragon. "I don't even know how you did!"

"Because I'm a better flier than you!" Smiling, Nyramyn tugged at his tail spines, stretching out their webbing. "Right? Right?"

"Yes, Nyra, yes!" Revaramek shook his head, trying to pull his tail from his grasp. "You're a better flier than I am!"

"Told you!" She released his tail and banked away, only to fly up alongside him, almost wing tip to wing tip. "You should have listened to me."

"Yes, I-Hey! You didn't listen to me when I told you I was overlord!"

"That's because you made that up."

"I did not! I told you, I-"

"Being overlord for one morning hardly counts!"

"So you were listening!"

Nyramyn gave him a bright smile, her copper-bronze eyes shining in the sun. "I'm always listening to your stories! I love your tales. But when you talk about yourself, it's just ever so hard to decipher which ones are true and which ones you're just making up as you go along."

"You'll just have to assume they're all true, then."

"Except those about what a good flier you are, hmm?"

"I am a good flier!" Revaramek glared at her, fighting back a smile. "I was the best flier in all the marsh!"

"Then I feel ever so sorry for all the other dragons that lived there. It must be terrible to be hatched without wings."

"What?" Revaramek shook his head. "They weren't hatched without-"

"They must have been, because all it takes to outfly you is a functional pair of wings."

"Oh, now you're just asking for it!"

"Asking for what? A lesson in floundering about in the air, like a youngling attempting their first flight?" She waved her paw, lifting her spines. "Or are you offering to teach me how to declare myself resplendent?" She tapped a claw tip against her muzzle. "Actually, since you've announced me the swamp's best flier, I suppose that makes me the resplendent one."

"Resplendent?" Revaramek turned his head as they flew, making a show of looking her over. "So you are. You're certainly the most beautiful dragon of the swamp."

Nyramyn blinked at him, swallowing. Her nose and frills flushed darker, and she glanced away, smiling. "Thank you. You're...well, at least the third or fourth most handsome dragon in the swamp."

"Third or fourth?" Revaramek tossed his head, pawing at the air. "I should be second, at least. Surely I'm on par with old Ugly Mudshadow."

"Who?" Nyramyn giggled, her scales rattling. She gazed at him, still smiling. "Alright...you're the most handsome dragon I can currently see. How's that?"

"Acceptable." He banked away from her, then drifted closer again. "I suppose that means I'd better win you over before all the more handsome dragons show up."

"Good luck with that!" Nyramyn snapped her jaws at him, laughing. "I'd make a comment about how I'd not lift my tail for an arrogant brute like you unless you were the last dragon left in the swamp, but..."

"Yes, my odds do seem to be getting better, don't they?"

"With my luck, the day I finally succumb to your meager charms, you'll be finished before you've even gotten started!"

"So you're saying you will succumb? At least one of us will be happy!"

Nyramyn shook her head, laughing. "You're such a brat. Are you hungry?"

Revaramek cocked his head at her. "That was a quick change of subject!"

"Didn't want you to get your hopes up, thinking I was serious. Come on!" She folded her wings, diving back towards the clouds. "Let us hunt swamp crab!"

Revaramek tucked his wings in to follow her down. He smiled as she vanished through the gray shroud. To think that what had once seemed like his greatest sacrifice had brought him here, to this moment, with this person who found joy in everything. There was no one he'd rather face the dying of the world with. The poison, the danger, the isolation, none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was they were together.

As long as Nyramyn was here, there was no place he'd rather be.